


Mr. Master

by littlemiss_m



Series: Kinktober 2018 [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BDSM, Butt Plugs, Crossdressing, M/M, Object Insertion, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Size Kink, heavily referenced ot4 in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemiss_m/pseuds/littlemiss_m
Summary: After a long day at work, Gladio returns home to a surprise he won't complain about.





	Mr. Master

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober day 11, object insertion & crossdressing.

Gladio was not expecting to run into anyone when he finally stumbled through the side entrance of the Amicitia Manor, so the sight of a shadow hiding behind the next doorway had him tensing up within a split-second. The entranceway – full of shoes, coats and umbrellas – was too small for him to swing out his sword, so he prepared himself for the possibility of a fist-fight instead, ready to brawl; yet when he recognized the freckled face peeking past the doorframe, all the previous tension leaked out of his body alongside a heavy sigh of relief.

”Oh, it's just _you_ ,” Gladio murmured, already taking off the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck; though the first snowstorms of the season were still weeks ahead, the chilly winds had settled in tight. ”Shit, Prompto, you–what are you wearing?”

Pure astonishment clouding his voice, Gladio froze still as stone when he saw Prompto step into the open doorway. The blond was dressed in a stereotypical maid's outfit of the less functional kind, black fabric so scarce that one wrong move would have uncovered either Prompto's junk or a pair of nipples peeking through the lacy cups attached to the very edge of the neckline. He had stockings on, and a pair of impossibly tall heels; a golden barrette with some sort of a jewel held back the longer strands of hair at the side of his face, and his lips had been painted a very alluring shade of red that matched the color of his nail polish.

”Err,” Prompto murmured, shifting on the balls of his feet. He cleared his throat but still refused to meet Gladio's gaze. ”Please let me take your coat, sir?”

The words came out tentative and unsure, and for another moment longer, Gladio continued staring at Prompto. Though he appeared embarrassed and nervous, there was nothing to signal unwillingness, and so Gladio – his upstairs-brain in agreeance with his downstairs-brain – nodded, a leer spreading on his face. He hadn't expected this, but – well, he wasn't going to turn down his pretty boy either.

”Of course,” Gladio responded, handing over first his scarf and then the great coat he'd worn over his suit to ward off the cold winds. Prompto took them, and after a second of glancing around, hung them on the rack that was closer to Gladio than it was to him. When he was done, he stepped back to the doorway, and so they returned to staring at each other in awkward silence.

Eventually, Prompto cleared his throat, a blush on his face that had little to do with the make-up spread on his skin. ”If you would please follow me, sir,” he mumbled, waving a hand in the vague direction of the living quarters.

Harrumphing to hide his awkwardness, Gladio stepped forward. ”Lead the way, then,” he said, trying to sound authorative but not quite finding the role he was supposed to fill. After a moment of hesitation, he added: ”Maid,” and was rewarded with a full-body shudder that almost brought Prompto tumbling down from his heels.

Prompto led him through the house and into the small family library. Gladio hovered near the door while Prompto tottered over to the couch – able to stay upright well enough, but clearly without any actual confidence in his footings – and grabbed a towel folded over the backrest, which he then spread out on the couch. There was a small wicker basket sitting on the coffee table, containing at least a bottle of lube and an old-fashioned feather duster.

”Please have a seat, sir,” Prompto said, a bit more emboldened than before, but still nowhere near his usual sunny self. He gestured at the towel and backed off, hands clasped in front of his tiny little apron. ”I've, uh, I've been ordered to take good care of you tonight, sir.”

Raising an eyebrow, Gladio slowly made his way to the couch. He tugged his tie loose and shrugged off his suit jacket, holding it out for Prompto, who blinked a couple times before seeming to understand what Gladio was getting at.

”I see,” Gladio murmured. He plopped himself down on the towel – no stains in the family room, please and thank you – and watched Prompto hesitate for a moment. Eventually the blond walked over to the nearest chair, the layers of his skirt bouncing with each step and gifting Gladio with glimpses of ruffled underwear. ”Ordered by whom?”

Prompto folded the jacket over the chair before turning around, his hands finding each other behind his back this time. The lightning fixtures were brighter in the library, and Gladio could only now see some of the details on the outfit; the bottom half was fairly simple, fitted in at the waist, but the widening skirt and the voluminous petticoats cast an illusion of a more womanly shape, suggesting an hourclass silhoutte where Gladio knew was none.

”Err, um, it was, um, Mr. Ignis who gave me the orders, sir,” Prompto answered. Though he fumbled for his words, his voice was beginning to gain an edge of confidence.

”And Mr. Ignis is...”

Prompto squirmed a bit. ”He's... the head butler?” he tried, grimacing, but a moment later his expression changed into something gleefully seductive. ”Mr. Ignis has taught me all I need to know, sir, so please have me serve you as you see fit.”

Gladio cleared his throat to hide the groan threatening to slip free. He pinched the fabric of his trousers and tugged at it, trying to adjust his steadily plumping cock with the subtlety of a garula in a porcelain store. The blush on Prompto's face deepened as a result.

”Is he still here?”

”No, sir,” Prompto answered, this time readily and without hesitation. ”Mr. Ignis has gone home for the night, sir.”

Gladio nodded, sparing a distant thought to imagine Ignis returning to the Citadel and to Noctis; they'd all been fairly overworked lately, with a diplomatic visit to Gralea being planned, and when Gladio had finally left, Noctis had been on the verge of exhaustion. There'd be no bratty little princes for Ignis to correct that night, only their sweet pillow princess demanding attention, and Gladio knew that whatever mood Ignis had been in when he left Prompto at the Manor, he wouldn't hesitate to lavish Noctis with love.

Turning his attention back to Prompto, Gladio made a show of letting his gaze pan across the tall, lithe body waiting for him. ”Pour me a drink, maid,” he ordered after a lingering moment that was enough to leave Prompto squirming. ”The whiskey, please.”

Prompto nodded and looked around, unsureness flickering across his face, and Gladio tilted his head towards the drinks cabinet by the side; Prompto was still such an infrequent visitor at the Manor that it was a miracle he had known the route from the entrance to the library, though Gladio could now safely assume that was all Ignis' doing.

”Back row, second bottle from the left,” Gladio said, locking his gaze to Prompto's thighs and the alluring swish of the ruffled dress. ”The tumblers are on the upper shelf inside the cabinet.”

The heels and the short dress alone were enough to make Prompto's already gorgeous legs look twice as long as usual, but when he bent over to open the cupboard door, Gladio found himself licking at his lips. The movement wasn't a large one, yet it pulled Prompto's knees straight and his muscles taut, inching the skirt high enough to give Gladio a view of the old-fashioned, ruffled panties hidden beneath. When Prompto straightened his back once more, the skirt and the petticoats hid the underwear from Gladio's eyes, but the image remained burned into his mind.

Prompto walked over slowly, carefully; he'd filled the tumbler a little too full, but Gladio wasn't about to reprimand him for it. Instead, he spread his legs as wide apart as comfortable and leaned further into the couch, resting one arm across the backrest. Prompto stepped into the V of Gladio's legs and offered him the glass.

”Here you go, sir,” Prompto murmured. Gladio took the tumbler from him and brought it his lips, sipping at the drink – that, at least, Prompto had gotten correct – before turning an exaggerated blink in the direction of Prompto's face.

”I'm sorry,” he said, slow and not entirely kind, ”don't you have work to do?”

Prompto was clearly startled by the question, and Gladio had to deny himself the permission to laugh at the flustered blush that spread down Prompto's neck, all the way down to the lace hiding his nipples. Gladio jerked his chin towards the wicker basket and the feather duster. Prompto made his understanding clear with a surprised little gasp and dashed off fast as his heeled feet allowed him to, grabbing the long stem of the duster before pausing to evaluate the room. In the end, he headed for the tall bookshelves lining an entire wall, and Gladio – seeing his chance as soon as the other turned his back – adjusted his pants once more.

The bookshelves were high enough to reach the ceiling of the already lofty room, and even the high-heeled Prompto – the shortest of the four, yes, but far from being a short man – would have needed a ladder to reach the topmost shelves. Instead of grabbing the sliding library ladder, however, he settled for dusting what he could reach and lifted himself up on his toes, his free hand resting against a shelf to keep him upright.

One hand on his drink, Gladio let the other drift down to his crotch. He couldn't say if Prompto was trying to show off his body or not, but the end result was the same either way; every little step made the skirts bounce, and every time he reached for the higher shelves, the hem rose up to show off two plump cheeks craddled under a pair of pastel pink panties. It was when he bend down, however, that Gladio had the best view of all – first the sight of Prompto's impressive back end, and then the flush of blood on a pale face when Prompto stood up straight once more.

They continued in silence until only a few splashes of amber liquid remained at the bottom of Gladio's glass; barely enough for half a sip, if that. He eyed it for a moment, swirling it around the tumbler as if lost in thought. Eventually he cleared his throat, and as soon as Prompto had turned around, he beckoned him over with a simple crook of his finger.

While Prompto was on his way across the room, Gladio laid one of his shoes against the coffee table and pushed it back to create more space on the floor before him. Once done, he slouched down a fraction and spread his legs, just in time for Prompto to step into the triangular gap cast by Gladio's knees and the crooked table now far behind Prompto's back.

Saying nothing, Gladio rested the tumbler on his knee and used the forefinger of his other hand to draw a circle in the air, a fairly universal signal Prompto didn't misunderstand. Setting the duster down on the table, Prompto moved into the very center of the cleared area between Gladio and the table, and held his hands loosely against his sides. Though he had his chin down and was biting onto his lower lip, there was an unmistakeable fire in his eyes.

He spun around slowly, half a step and a fraction of a turn at a time. Gladio pretended to examine the outfit, though in reality, he'd simply wanted to see Prompto following his orders. The easy, graceful obedience he showed around Ignis was nowhere to be seen, but in its place was something almost fierce, a seductive determination Gladio found he didn't mind; and when Prompto was done with his circle, Gladio rested his hand on the surprisingly thin fabric of his waist and spun him around once more, until Prompto stood with his back facing Gladio.

”Bend over,” Gladio ordered. He rapped his knuckles against the fleshy part of Prompto's outer thigh before retreating his hand to his lap. ”Lean on the table if you need to.”

Once again, Prompto did as ordered and bend forward slowly, as if unsure; likely unused to the change in his range of motion brought by the heels forcing his feet into the very tips of his toes. He managed to bend over almost completely, but after a moment of hesitation, had to rest both his palms on the very edge of the coffee table.

Gladio didn't care. A little flick of his forefinger was enough to lift the last of the ruffles from Prompto's bum to his back; the fabric flopped over with a slow, satisfying arch, and Gladio settled back to appraise the riches before him.

Up close, the color of the ruffled underwear was peachier than Gladio had at first noticed, but why this thought – out of all the information now available to him – rose to the forefront of his mind, he couldn't say. For a moment, he simply eyed the blump bottom in front of his face, enjoying both it and the dark blush he could glimpse between Prompto's slightly parted legs, but soon he brought his free hand forwards once more.

Prompto's ass was just as soft and smooth in his hand as it had always been. Gladio took his time in massaging the flesh, feeling it bulge against his palm when he dug his fingers in deep. Slowly, he ban to guide his hand over the tailbone and towards the other cheek, but as his thumb passed over the stretch of fabric covering the crack in the middle, he found something hard and flat in there already.

Clucking his tongue, Gladio drew his hand back a few inches and slapped it against the side of Prompto's ass, enjoying the strangled squawk that followed. ”And what's this supposed to be?” he asked, tapping the plug with his fingers hard enough to jostle it. ”Have you been naughty, maid?”

Prompto swallowed audibly and shifted his feet a little, likely trying to find a better position but only succeeding at causing his fleshy bottom to jiggle. ”No, sir,” he panted, ”I was – Mr. Ignis wanted to make sure I was ready and trained for you, sir–”

Tutting loudly, Gladio grasped the plug and tugged at it fast but shallow. Heat flooded his crotch over the obscene sight of the fabric stretching outwards around the wide base of what had to be one of the larger plugs in the collection, and he slammed it right in, almost toppling Prompto over; only the hands braced against the table kept him upright.

”Che,” Gladio spat out, ”perhaps it's him I ought to have disciplined, then!”

With one last slap on Prompto's bum, Gladio leaned back against the couch and tapped his shoe against the floor. A command to stand up spilled from his lips and within seconds, Prompto was raising up from his position, still appearing to struggle with the heels; Gladio waited until Prompto looked like he had control over all his limbs before speaking up and ordering him to turn around.

Prompto did. His face was flushed darker than Gladio could remember ever seeing before, but whether it was from lust, embarrassment, or the blood packed in his head, Gladio couldn't tell. The plug must have been driving him mad, too, now that Gladio knew of it; it was larger than anything Gladio had ever taken, and though Prompto had a penchant for always pleading more more, bigger, deeper, he doubted Ignis would have let him take one of the largest plugs for a scene like this.

Snapping his fingers with a raised eyebrow, Gladio pointed at the floor between his knees. Prompto – still blushing, still embarrassed, still biting and licking at the artificial red of his lips – attempted to kneel the way he'd been trained to by Ignis, but once again, the shoes appeared to bother him. In the end, Prompto needed to hold onto both of Gladio's knees to make it down to his knees; a small break in role from both of them, probably, yet nothing Gladio felt like commenting on.

”Drink.”

Gladio transferred the tumbler back to his dominant hand and held it out, wrapping the other in Prompto's hair to tilt his head back a fraction. To reach, he had to lean forward until he was staring almost directly down, Prompto caged between his body and the floor, with nowhere left to run, and if Gladio hadn't been hard before, he certainly was now.

Careful to not choke Prompto, Gladio tipped the tumbler against Prompto's lower lip, the plump redness visible through the glass. He poured the whiskey in slowly, but without giving Prompto a chance to swallow until he was done.

”Swallow.”

Prompto did. Gladio watched the bob of his throat as he drank down the liquid, a small grimace appearing on his face over the taste; then his gaze returned to Gladio's and he blinked, licking at his lips in wait.

In this position, it would have been so easy to simply grab Prompto by the hair and push his head down against Gladio's dick, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned back once more and carefully lifted his right leg over Prompto's folded thigh, tapping the tip of his shoe against the straining bulge at the front of the peach-colored panties. Prompto gasped, groaned, almost fell over as he threw his head down, and Gladio tutted.

His shoe fit very nicely between Prompto's legs, Gladio was quick to notice. He pushed it into the gap until Prompto's clothed dick rested against the neatly tied laces, and though Gladio couldn't feel anything but a warm weight through the expensive leather, he knew a pair of balls wrapped in pink ruffles must have sat atop his toes. Slowly, incrementally, he lifted his foot up, adding pressure until Prompto began to whine, in question, in pain, not understanding what Gladio meant – but then again, that was exactly what Gladio had wanted to see happen.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, he nudged his shoe harder against the soft flesh between Prompto's legs. ” _Up_ ,” he commanded, rolling his eyes. Prompto still needed a moment to act, but then he laid his hands on Gladio's knees – black fabric beneath white skin, the slutty redness of Prompto's nails so stark between them – and carefully heaved himself upright once more.

Despite the ruffled skirt, Gladio could see the faint outline of a straining bulge at the front of Prompto's panties.

Fighting to keep his expression carefully blank, Gladio held out the empty tumbler. Prompto stared at it for a moment, then took it, looking around as if he had no idea what to actually do with it; Gladio grunted and reached over to give his garters a snap that left a red mark on Prompto's thigh.

”I was under the impression Ignis had trained you,” he complained, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and at the door in the corner near the fireplace. ”Go wash the glass, maid, and for Ifrit's sake, make sure you dry it properly before taking it back where it belongs.”

If Prompto had expected something else, or if Gladio's words ran a touch too mean, he said nothing, and so Gladio stopped him by resting his foot on the coffee table, nearly toppling Prompto over.

”So not only did he use you without my permission, but he also has been slacking off in teaching you the proper ways,” Gladio said, clucking his tongue. Prompto stared at him, face red and chest heaving for breath. ”Here I was, thinking that man good at his job... Che. Well, either way – I asked you a _question_ , maid. What do you say?”

Gladio knew this was something Ignis had, in fact, taught Prompto, and that the lack of acknowledgement was likely all due to him and his lax orders, but such a thing hardly mattered; if anything, it made Prompto look the part of the fumbling maid he was trying to portray.

”Yes, sir,” Prompto responded quickly, holding onto the glass with both his hands. ”I'm sorry, sir, I'll get to it right away, sir. I promise I'll be good, sir, I promise.”

Gladio let his foot drop to the ground with a loud thud and pulled it in, giving Prompto the space to leave. ”The butler's pantry is in the corner,” he spoke, more for Prompto's sake than the scene's, ”it leads into the kitchen but you can use the sink there.”

Prompto stopped and turned around, then curtsied on wobbly feet. ”Yes, sir,” he said, ”of course, sir.”

Gladio followed Prompto with his gaze as far as he was able to, but as soon as the heavy door clicked shut, he turned his attention to the wicker basket on the table. He reached for it, grunting when he realized he'd need to stand up to fully close the distance, and brought the basket to his lap. Other than the bottle of lube he'd spotted earlier, the basket also carried a box of condoms – rarely used, but sometimes needed – and another of wet wipes, and a cheap plastic bag that gave Gladio pause until he remembered the plug still inside of Prompto and how they'd need something to ferry it back to Gladio's room. Satisfied with the contents, Gladio set the basket down on the couch and leaned back into the plush cushions.

It didn't take that long for Prompto to return; washing and drying one, small glass really didn't require longer than a moment. Gladio watched him traipse to the cabinet and then back to the couch, hands clasped together in front of the frilly little apron. Seeing the cheeky, expectant expression on the blond's face, Gladio raised an eyebrow, taking delight in the little full-body shiver that ran visibly through Prompto's body.

”I've finished my task, sir,” he said, standing straight at attention. The way his red lips circled around the last word had Gladio thinking of all sorts of thoughts, but especially what he'd planned for next, and an appreciative hum rolled up his throat. ”Do you have any other orders for me, sir?”

Nodding, Gladio tapped his knee and pointed at the floor between his legs. ”On your knees, thank you.”

Once again, Prompto leaned against Gladio's knees until he'd settled himself on the expensive, handmade carpet. His lower body was now hid from Gladio's eyes, but he nudged the tip of his shoe against Prompto's inner thigh all the same, ordering him to spread them wider, which Prompto did, gasping a little as he moved; the plug must have been rubbing against his walls, Gladio thought gleefully. He wondered if Prompto also had a cock ring on, or if he was simply surviving on the power of will alone, but decided he didn't care – if Prompto came to soon, then that would be his problem to shoulder, not Gladio's.

For another moment longer, Gladio eyed Prompto, taking in the lipstick – which still hadn't smeared at all despite the near-constant abuse – and the blush traveling down to nipples threatening to spill free from the bodice. Leering a little, Gladio pressed a palm against his aching cock, sighing both in pleasure and relief over the first touch in a long while.

Between his knees, Prompto swallowed.

”Did Ignis train you to suck cock, maid?” Gladio asked while slowly unfastening his belt. He slid the wide leather through the clasp and let the two ends fall flat on the couch.

A moment of hesitation – of Prompto wondering where to take the scene, possibly – passed, but Gladio didn't press on. Soon enough, Prompto bit down on his lip and nodded, almost sheepish as he gazed up at Gladio through the thick coat of mascara on his eyelashes.

”Yes, sir,” he murmured, coy and demure as he batted his lashes. ”Mr. Ignis told me to take care of _all_ your needs, sir.”

”Lets hope that _this_ part of your training proves more successful than the other parts, then.”

Grinning at the way Prompto immediately sucked in his lower lip, Gladio dipped a hand into his boxers to cup his cock. As desperate and aroused as he already was, he still took his time in fondling himself, letting the precome-stained skin of his cock rub on his palm before finally pulling both his member and his balls over the elastic of his underwear. Prompto licked his lips, eyes straining on the treat before him, but he remained still despite the open want in his eyes.

Holding back another grin, Gladio rubbed his thumb along his slit, eyes widening over the way Prompto's entire body seemed to tilt forward, slow and steady until the blond caught himself with a startled jerk and returned to his previous position. A bead of precome slipped from Gladio's cock and he rubbed it into the skin, purposefully denying Prompto what he wanted the most.

For a brief moment, Gladio debated making Prompto beg for it, but ultimately he came to the conclusion that this wasn't the scene for such a thing; he was the master giving orders to his maid, and the help had no need for wishes of their own. Not in this fantasy setting, at least – in reality, Gladio knew better than to think actual paid workers and professional lesser just because they were subordinate to someone else.

Forcing his thoughts back to the situation at hand, Gladio opened his palm a little. ”Lets see if your training bears fruit, then,” he murmured, nodding at Prompto when the blond looked up as if asking for permission. Arms folded behind his back, Prompto leaned forward, taking the ruddy tip in his mouth; Gladio felt something soft brush on one of his fingers, and couldn't resist running his thumb over the arch of Prompto's upper lip where it stretched around Gladio's dick.

Not one speck of red paint was transferred to Gladio's thumb. ”At least you know how to dress appropriately,” he commented, trying very hard to keep his voice level despite the warm mouth lapping at him. ”Or is this Ignis' work as well?”

If Gladio knew his lovers at all, it was, at least in reality, but if Prompto the Maid dissented, he didn't say anything; probably because he was otherwise occupied, Gladio thought with a snort. He settled into a comfortable position on the sofa and kept his eyes on Prompto and the red ring moving up and down his shaft, shallow at first as Prompto played with the tip, then deeper and deeper with each dip of his head.

Prompto knew what he was doing, there was no denying that, and soon Gladio found himself groaning and panting for breath. The warm squeeze around his dick was just perfect, the tongue lapping at the underwide wet and broad, and soon enough, Gladio found his hand wrapping into Prompto's hair to pull him in closer. Prompto startled, clearly, his throat trembling around Gladio's cock as he struggled against the urge to gag, but Gladio knew the blond could take it and held on through the worst spasms, moaning out loud when they massaged his cock just right. Seconds later, Prompto relaxed, his eyes watery and nostrils flaring for air, and Gladio pulled at the golden strands of hair until only his tip remained in Prompto's spit-soaked mouth.

”You will drink every drop, maid,” he murmured, voice rough around his heaving lungs. ”I do not want to see my house dirtied up. Understood?”

His head held still by Gladio's firm hand, Prompto's nod was nothing but a subtle slide of slick lips on the sensitive skin of Gladio's cockhead, his words a senseless garble. Biting down on his lip, Gladio fixed his hold on Prompto's hair and rested his free hand around the very base of his cock, the circle of his fingers both a measure of stability and an attempt at staving off the swiftly approaching orgasm.

After taking deep breath to ready himself, Gladio yanked Prompto's head down in one smooth move that left a pair of frothing lips pressed tight against his fingers. This time Prompto was ready, and though Gladio knew his cock must have been hitting some very awkward spots, he felt barely any spasms, just the rhytmic squeeze of a throat flexing around his aching member. A moan on his lips, he held Prompto still for a few seconds that seemed to last for an eternity, then, just as nimble fingers grabbed at his shins, he removed his hand from Prompto's hair and let him free.

Prompto pulled back just a fraction, teary eyes wide as he stared up at Gladio. He swallowed around the dick in his mouth, pulling another loud gasp from Gladio, and slowly dipped his head forward, gaze still locked with Gladio's.

”That's it,” Gladio murmured, his right hand still holding onto his cock, ”take it all, maid.”

Gladio pulled back his right hand and quickly wiped it against the towel before lacing his fingers together behind his neck and settling into a comfortable slouch on the plush couch. Between his legs, Prompto remained mostly still – though not inattentive – while Gladio moved, but soon started up once more, lavishing the heated erection with all his attention. This time, Gladio didn't hold himself back and allowed himself to get lost in the pleasure, both the sensation of a wet mouth taking him as deep as humanly possible, and the mental image of Prompto's mouth flooding with saliva and cum alike. He could feel the slick spilling out with every bob of Prompto's head, more and more of it dribbling down his shaft to pool at the base, drenching his clothes and pubic hairs alike.

Prompto's mouth was the Astral's gift to mankind, Gladio – and Noctis, and Ignis – had long since decided. He couldn't stop himself from thrusting into the warm, wet cavern, hips rocking against the couch as his body sought its pleasure heedless of the source; nothing mattered but the promise of an orgasm already tickling every cell of his being, causing his toes to curl up in shoes as his body arched off the couch, Prompto's hands on the junction of his legs barely enough to keep him in place. At the last possible moment, Prompto retreated a couple inches, pulling a sob from Gladio who felt the delicious heat disappear just as he came; his cockhead was still firmly trapped between Prompto's lips, however, and he could feel the cum sloshing around it like a particularly viscious bath.

Panting for breath, Gladio dropped down on the couch. Between his legs, Prompto pulled off his cock with a wet pop, cheeks bulging with the volume of cum and saliva in his mouth. A low chuckle rumbled from Gladio's throat and he grinned when he saw Prompto sit back and open his mouth to show off the mess coating his tongue and gums, one hand cupped under his chin to catch any spills.

”Good,” Gladio groaned, ”now swallow it, maid.”

Prompto's assenting ”uh-uh” was muffled by the sheer amount of thick liquids pooling on his tongue. Under Gladio's watchful gaze, he closed his mouth and tipped his chin back, swallowing once, twice, before reaching out with the tip of his tongue to lick across the still-intact paint on his swollen lips. A third swallow and he opened his mouth, showing off how empty it was.

Gladio nodded and flicked his right finger up. ”Stand up.”

Once Prompto was back on his feet, Gladio grabbed him by the waist and dug his thumbs into the fabric. He knew what he wanted to do next but could no longer think of any lines fitting his role, so he simply ran his palms over the ruffles of Prompto's skirt and petticoats, fluffing them up before tucking them under the apron's waistband.

He'd barely had the time to admire the garter belt before, so he did it now, pinching the shiny fabric between his fingers to get a feel of it. He let go with a snort and played both his hands over the peach-pink panties, rubbing against the layered ruffles and the hardness barely contained under them. The massive wet spot at the front made Gladio want to laugh, but again, he couldn't think of anything to say about it.

Prompto remained silent when Gladio hooked his thumbs under the panties and tugged them down, only huffing a little when they maneuvered him out of them, one leg at a time; Gladio tossed the soiled underwear into the wicker basket and reached over to cup Prompto's cock and to smear the remnants of old come over it.

”Was this Ignis' doing, too, or are you just a slut, maid?”

Before Prompto could respond, Gladio twisted his wrist to fix his hold and slightly yanked down, as if trying to milk a cow. Prompto startled, his heels fumbling on the carpeted floor, but remained standing even as he cried out.

”I, I,” he mumbled, either too aroused to answer or still thinking of what to say, but Gladio didn't care either way. He let go of the cock and wiped his palm clean on Prompto's stocking, leaving behind dark smears on the whisper-thin fabric. ”It was – it was me, sir. Mr. Ignis told me to hold on until you gave me permission, but it just, it felt too good and I couldn't – I'm so sorry, sir, I tried but–”

”So you _are_ a slut, then.”

A quiet sob. ”Yes, sir,” Prompto cried, actual tears streaming down his face; his cock stood red and hard against the upturned skirt bottom. ”I'm, I'm just a slut, sir.”

”Hmm. Bend over, hands on the table. You know the drill.”

This time, there was nothing to hide Prompto's plump cheeks from Gladio's view; the skirt remained bunched up under the apron's ties, and the underwear were long gone, though they had left behind faint lines where they'd dug into the creamy white skin. Only the garter belt remained, the smoky gray fabric lined with black lace the perfect frame for Prompto's ass, and once again, Gladio reached forward to flick one of the straps. Prompto squeaked when it snapped loudly against his skin, and Gladio didn't even pretend to hide his smirk.

The plug was one of the ones Gladio had been thinking about; large enough to suit Prompto's endless gluttony, but not one of the absolutely giant ones. Gladio didn't know when Ignis had left, but they'd been in the library for some thirty or forty minutes now, which meant the plug would've been inserted closer to an hour earlier; he could see some sticky smears of old lube around the flat base, but nothing actually slick anymore, and with a slight wince hidden from Prompto's view he grabbed the bottle of lube from the basket.

He poured the thick, clear liquid over Prompto's tailbone and watched it dribble down, around the plug stretching his puffy hole wide and loose, and down to the two hairless balls resting tight against Prompto's body. Gladio scooped his fingers through the worst of the mess before it could drip down on the floor and dirty the carpet, and smeared the excess around the hot, swollen rim before him. Prompto gasped, still sniffling slightly, and though the muscles of his backside tensed, he didn't lean into the touch.

Gladio put away the bottle and cleaned his hand on the towel, taking his time enjoying the sight in front of him. When he tapped the base of the plug and pressed against it, Prompto startled and moaned, his back arching upwards; Gladio waited until he'd returned into his previous, more relaxed position before continuing ministrations.

He twisted and pulled at the plug slowly, carefully, more interested in spreading the lube across the nearly dried-out surface of the dark silicon than in actually teasing Prompto, though in the end, he didn't mind hitting two birds with one stone. Slowly, as the plug began to move around more smoothly, Gladio increased his movements, rocking the hard plastic against Prompto's hole and pushing it back in in an unpredictable pattern. Within moments, Prompto was a panting mess, his cock dribbling against the smooth skin of his thighs as he shook under Gladio's hand.

The sight of milky cum collecting on the upper edge of Prompto's stocking gave Gladio a pause; he really didn't want to get anything on the carpet, but the only towel they had was currently under him and would be needed there once he was done playing with Prompto's hole. Sighing, he grabbed a condom from the basket and rolled it onto Prompto's cock.

”I though I told you not to make a mess of this room,” he murmured. ”I really must have a talk with Ignis; clearly he didn't train you as well as he ought to have.”

”Oh, I'm so sorry, sir,” Prompto gasped in response. He pressed into Gladio's hands around his cock, then tried to buck against the plug when Gladio let go. ”I'll try to be good, I promise! I, I may not know what to do, but I promise I'm trying my best for you, sir!”

Heaving out another sigh, Gladio returned to his slouch and took hold of the plug once more. ”Well, at least you know how to take orders,” he said before pulling at the plug until it's widest part was stretching Prompto's rim wide and taut around it. ”Now, be a good maid and stay still.”

Gladio pushed the plug back in, pressing against Prompto with enough force to make the blond gasp and strain until his muscles trembled. Relenting a little, Gladio allowed the plug to slide to its natural position before twisting it to the side, half-a-circle to the left, then another to the right, knowing firsthand there was little Prompto loved more than the overwhelming drag of something rubbing against his anal passage. Gladio kept at it until Prompto was moaning loudly, wantonly, then continued until he could feel his own cock awakening once more.

When he finally pulled the plug out completely, Prompto's hole was as much of a wrecked mess as he'd expected – the rim red and puffy, hot to the touch, the insides glistening with lube where light passed the gaping maw. Gladio licked his lips, almost wishing he could dive right in for a meal or two, but instead he grabbed the plastic bag and dropped the plug inside of it before tossing the whole thing away.

In his original plans, he'd meant to simply have Prompto stand up and turn around before sitting him down on his dick, but the gaping hole in front of him gave Gladio a moment of pause. Grinning, he hooked two fingers behind the rim, fingers slipping through the slick collecting there, and pulled until Prompto had no choice but to follow. Just as Prompto's legs hit the couch, Gladio let go of the ruined hole and set his hands on Prompto's waist instead, spinning him around fast enough to leave him swaying, and then pulled him down.

Gladio pushed his own knees together and straddled Prompto across them, grinning at the dazed look facing him. Prompto's mouth hung open and his eyes, behind the dark mascara coating his lashes, were so dark Gladio could hardly spot any blue in them at all, only a blackness threatening to swallow him whole, and he surged forward to claim a deep kiss he only ended when he felt Prompto's hands swatting against his chest.

”Oh, sir, sir,” the blond gasped, clearly out of breath and blood alike, ”I don't think – I don't think that's very appropriate, sir.”

Gladio licked the taste of his own spend from his lips before answering. ”And who are you to tell me what is acceptable and what is not, maid?” he growled, reaching around Prompto's waist to dig his fingers in the wet hole still dribbling with lube. It was loose enough that if he wanted to, he'd be able to fit his entire fist there, but the thought of Prompto's ruined hole fluttering around his cock was far more alluring, and so he shoved the idea away.

Prompto gasped and pushed against Gladio's hand. ”I'm sorry, sir,” he wailed, ”I'm sorry, just, please-sir-please–”

Huffing, Gladio removed his hand in favor of taking himself in hand, holding his dick up while his other hand guided Prompto down. ”Shut up,” he grunted, ”maids are to be seen, not heard.”

Prompto's words ended with a wet gasp as he ground down on Gladio's cock. Like Gladio had assumed, the plug had left Prompto's hole loose and pliant, the walls unable to squeeze down properly, but the slick heat was nevertheless enough to tease him until he was sweating and panting once more. Groaning at the onslaught of pleasure on his already sensitive cock, Gladio reached up to wrap his left hand in the short hairs at the back of Prompto's neck and pulled the blond down into a kiss that left them both breathless, tongues rubbing on each other and licking at all they could reach.

When Gladio could feel his orgasm building up inside of him, he reached his free hand between them and wrapped it around Prompto's weeping cock. Prompto sobbed, arched back until all his weight rested where the two of them were joined, and so Gladio moaned as well. He worked his hand in short but fast twists, jerking Prompto off while Prompto did his best to return the favor. Prompto was the first to go, hot come flooding Gladio's palm and sticking in the crevices between his fingers. A moment later, he followed, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he rutted and spilled into Prompto's hole.

For a while, the world stood still. Gladio's body fell lax as he gasped for breath, and soon Prompto – quiet and pliant – slumped against his chest.

”So,” Gladio exhaled as soon as the words returned to him, ”where the hell did _that_ come from?”

Prompto groaned into his shoulder. ”You've been working so hard,” he eventually murmured, hands caressing Gladio's shoulders and upper arms, ”I just – wanted to do something nice. Y'know.”

The slick, not-entirely-pleasant sensation of his cock slipping free from Prompto kept Gladio distracted for a moment, as did the rush of cum and lube that soon sept through the fabric of his pants. Wrinkling his nose, Gladio grabbed the corner of the towel and folded it over his legs before reaching for the wicker basket and the box of wet wipes.

”It'll be over in three weeks,” he reminded Prompto while tearing open one of the foil packages. Things would return normal as soon as the year's last diplomatic visit was over. ”But either way, thanks, babe. Wouldn't mind a surprise like that every day.”

Gladio waggled his eyebrows while trying to wipe the worst of the mess from Prompto's bum and thighs, and while he heard a little giggle from the crook of his neck, it was hard to tell if it was his words or the cold wipe that had caused it in the first place. For a short period of time, they both fell silent, Prompto clinging to Gladio's chest while Gladio did his best to clean them up. Their clothes – especially Gladio's pants and underwear – were probably ruined, though, and he doubted any amount of soap would ever be enough to get rid of all the stains.

”I've just missed you guys so much,” Prompto admitted eventually. The tone of his voice and the fingers digging into Gladio's shoulders were enough bring a soft ache to Gladio's heart and a sad smile to his lips.

”I know, babe, I know,” he murmured, dipping his chin down to lay a kiss on the messy fluff of Prompto's hair. ”Three weeks, and then it'll be time for holidays. We'll have more than enough time for ouselves then, okay?”

Prompto hummed but didn't respond. His fingers fell lax and slid down Gladio's chest to rest above his heart, no longer a tender caress but a body furling into itself, and Gladio sighed. He tossed the soiled wipes into the basket and brought his hands back up to Prompto's shoulders, only just noticing how cool the skin felt to the touch, and realizing that the skimpy dress probably wasn't the most appropriate garment in a house too big to be heated properly.

”Hey, look at me, Prom,” he whispered, nudging Prompto's chin up even if he knew the other would still refuse to meet his gaze. ”I know things are a little hard for us all right now, but I swear they'll get better in the future, okay? You're only at the start of your career in the 'guard, and I bet it's making you feel like there's a huge distance between us all, but there isn't. You'll get more responsibilities with every passing year, and heck, Cor's already training you to replace him when the time comes for him to step down.”

That, at least, drew a quiet chuckle from Prompto. ”I really don't know what he sees in me, honest.”

”Someone worth training, looks like,” Gladio grinned. ”You know he's not the kind of a person who'd let nepotism affect his choices, yeah? I mean, it can't be ignored how close you are to Noct, Iggy, and I, but Cor really wouldn't give you the time of day if he didn't think you worthy of it.”

”I don't think Noct really wanted me joining the Crownsguard. I'd die for him if I had to, but...”

The first sentence gave Gladio a moment of pause, the content something he had known for a long while but had also hoped Prompto hadn't yet picked up. Sighing, he rested a palm on Prompto's chin and carefully forced it up, holding onto it until Prompto finally met his eyes.

”He's just a little tired of people wanting to die for him,” Gladio tried to explain. ”He's always loved you because he saw you as someone equal to him, but now that you're a newly enlisted Crownsguard, you're pretty much at the bottom of the ladder, and he's not taking it too well. But, Prom, you gotta know that Noctis loves you and wants you to be happy, okay? That's why he didn't stop you from joining. This, too, is something that's gonna get fixed when you get some experience and a couple promotions under your belt. I promise.”

Instead of speaking up, Prompto sat up and cupped the sides of Gladio's face, leaning in for a sweet, tender kiss that left Gladio feeling warm over. When Prompto retreated, Gladio thought he could see tears glittering on his long lashes, but there was a smile on his face as well, just as soft and loving as the kiss had been.

”Can we go to your room now?” Prompto murmured, fingers brushing over the harsh bristles of Gladio's beard.

”Sure thing, babe.” Nodding, Gladio inched a little closer to the edge of the couch and helped Prompto onto his feet. ”You look like you're a little cold, yeah?”

Waiting for Gladio to stand up, Prompto giggled nervously, a subtle flush rising on his face. ”Well...” he drawled, looking around shyly, ”it is kinda chilly in here, dude. Didn't really notice it earlier, but–”

Gladio silenced him with a kiss before carefully walking him over to the chair, where his suit jacket still lay over the backrest. He spread it over Prompto's shoulders, and though he knew from experience it wasn't the warmest garment in the world, the size difference between the two of them was large enough that the hem of the jacket hung so low it covered the entirety of Prompto's skirt.

Doubling back to grab the wicker basket, the feather duster, and to give the room one last appraising glance – he really didn't want to leave anything incriminating for Jared or his family to find – Gladio made his way to Prompto and easily pulled the other under his arm, not missing the pleased blush on his face.

”Hey, Prom,” he murmured, grinning as he leaned down to nip at the side of Prompto's neck. ”When we get to my room, how bout you tell me exactly what Ignis had you do while I show you my thanks, eh?”

Prompto flushed and startled, his elbow digging into Gladio's shoulder almost painfully as their steps fumbled out of the shared rhythm. At the same time, he tilted his head back into a laugh clear and loud. As it echoed in the long hallways of the manor, Gladio grinned and pulled him closer to his side, love blooming deep in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still @missymoth at tumblr, but now at pillowfort as well :)


End file.
